Small rain ah, you through that changed the face of the clouds, floating down to earth, fell to the eaves of the house, along the tile gutter off and on down, as if the broken thread of the pearl scattered all over the ground. The moment you kissed the ground, you turned into a transparent nightgown draped over the earth.
You are broken down to the earth's glazed marigold, right, or sent to the earth a thousand words? You let the cool air superimposed on a few points of sadness, stained with a few points of sadness. That pattering shallow singing and whispering, is in the quiet confession it! That bulge and in a flash burst the blisters, is in the deep nostalgia it! How many ordinary stories, only because of your deep love and a few more romantic, a few more sentimental. You nourish the land, inspire the poets, and soothe the wanderers in your wanton drifting, you make the romantic more romantic, make the sad and hurt more sad, and make the homesick doubly homesick. Hey, the autumn rain, the farmer's rain, the poet's rain, you look into, it is you who poetized this black night.
The rain, listening to your crisp notes, my thoughts roaming immersed, the mood can not be hidden. I'm not going to be able to get a good look at you, but I'm going to be able to get a good look at you! I sat alone in the hut, the yellow candlelight irradiated your crystalline face, my thoughts with your delicate posture in the shadow of the flying. You look into, your lingering soft misty and sprightly curtain, as if with a poetic mood from the valley, so that the monotonous courtyard and withered flowers and plants, in the void between the spirit of up. You are more like a master of the wind melody, in this quiet night playing heavenly music, intoxicated, like a fairyland, so that the wasteland of the soul is full of poetry and ethereal. I seem to see the time as you look, in the silent passing, in the silent growth, youth as rain, years as rain, all the beautiful past and sad memories, are like the night rain in this moment to evoke the memory of a long time.
Xiao Yu, tonight I pen for you for your lyrics, write your quiet calm, write your free flowing, write your pure ethereal, I quietly read you in front of the case you know you write you, collection of your dribs and drabs minutes and seconds, I would like to record every moving moment. Rain ah, you must be hiding too many past events, you must embrace a lot of yearning, let me into your heart, like you will be all the irritation precipitation, will be all the pain washing purification, with a crystal transparent heart embrace the land of the silent on all things.
Drizzle, enjoy yourself, I bless you and bless me.
Literati and poets love to write about the autumn rain, write spring rain, but it is not easy to see which literary masters, poets write winter rain works, perhaps because of too little reading, poorly informed, or perhaps originally scarce.
The reason why the masters love to write about the spring rain, because the spring rain has given birth to the growth of all things, tender green willow branches and grain buds give people hope, thick spring and the midnight cuckoo cries uplifting, inspiring progress.
The reason why the masters love to write about the autumn rain, because the rain with the same rusty autumn wind blowing down the ground full of dead leaves, giving people sadness, bleak; withered yellow grass and trees make people sad, let people lament the shortness of life; a continuous autumn night drizzle more people think of.
The reason why the masters do not love to write the winter rain, because the winter rain is cold, but also always with the bone-chilling winds come, and sometimes with a small snowflake snow particles have fluttered down from the air. Who will praise such bad weather and who will sing its praises? I'm afraid there won't be many people who write and express their feelings through the scenery!
Yes, the winter drizzle will not be praised, will not be sung, and there will not be too many people to borrow the scene to write love, borrow the scene to express their feelings. Winter sleet rain days, as far as the eye can see a gray, dense clouds, no birds, low sky to the pressure of people almost can not breathe; distant mountains in the mist of rain in a blur; roadside trees bare, only the claws of the beasts like branches pointing to the sky, reaching out to the passers-by, the shape of the grotesque horrors; grass has also long been destroyed by the snow and frost to the leaves do not stay, had to put his head deep into the solid soil. Hiding in the solid soil dormant, waiting for the spring wind to wake it up. In addition to the pines and bamboos are still tenacious with the cold still retains some green, the mountains will no longer find a little green. In the rainy days, the road is muddy, muddy water, everywhere is mud, feet fall where the mud splashed shoes and pants stained, a little dry is the mud star point. There are even some "unethical" Mr. Driver, as if no one else, wild horse-like straight into the past, mud and water splashing shot at pedestrians, so that pedestrians covered in mud and water, even the head and face can not be spared, a little bit after drying is naturally muddy stars again. Such a wretched look back home, Mrs. saw of course, inevitably a number of such as "how not to be careful" and so on the blame.
The cold winter season would have been difficult to see a ray of sunshine, the distant mountains were shrouded in what seemed like clouds and fog and like rain in the mist, the air seems to be frozen, dead, can not feel the vitality, only the north wind in the whistling, only the cold, very few people to go to the outdoor activities, can not hear the birdsong, can not smell the fragrance of the flowers, and can not hear the children's laughter. In the rainy days, there are often thin ice on the roadside, a careless fall you a person tumbled; home windows and doors closed, everyone trapped in the room, or sitting around the fireplace to talk about heaven and earth, or in the city of the four sides of the battle, or in front of the TV to listen to the beautiful women, "delicious you eat more" felicitous words. Rainy days in winter is not only cold, not only can not appreciate the beautiful scenery of nature, not only can not breathe fresh air, not only let a person feel life is boring, looking out the window of the rain, more sad from the sky, sad from the heart.
People in their twilight years as if the years to the end of winter: down a non-stop winter rain as the elderly of "snot pull get" "water drop"; dry tree trunks as if the elderly "thin shells to pull tendons The dry tree trunks are like the old man's "thin shell" body; the yellow grass is like the old man's white and fluffy hair; the gray sky is more like the old man's dark face, no luster and no life, the wrinkles on his face are like the clouds in the sky, you squeeze me, overlapping; there is no sunshine, there is no warmth of the day is also like the old man's limbs are cold and lack of yang energy.
Winter drizzle, cold enough for everything, annoying people. In the dead of night, the eaves of the water drops on the canopy issued by the "ding" "dong" sound of one after another, endless, stirring people's dreams, amazing mind; that a drop of water, the sound of "ding dong The dripping water and the "ding dong" sound are not like drops on the canopy, but striking the heart, which is heartbreaking and heartbreaking. The winds blowing wildly also wreak havoc on the earth, shaking the glass windows bam bam bam shaking, more chilling.
The end of the year that the spring will come, after the harsh winter, spring flowers, gorgeous spring and show in front of people, that is the law of nature, but people, "grass, trees, a spring, life," people will not have a second spring.
The rain in March pattered incessantly, and on rainy days I came to the winding alleys, and came to the roof of the house where you and I hid from the rain that year.
Listening to the rain, looking at your figure. Raindrops ticking, pedestrians walk, can no longer find your familiar silhouette, can not feel your even breathing, can not see your beautiful cheeks, can not hear your silver bell-like laughter.
In March, the rain pattered incessantly, drenching my clothes, drenching my heart.
That year was also a rainy day in March, you and I came to this roof, the rain was silky and wispy, floating and sprinkling, the rain fell on the roof, as if the song of March. You back to the eyebrow smile, but let my heart for a tremor, charming smile engraved in the heart. The rain stopped you like a beautiful butterfly flew out of the alley, and I can no longer walk out of the rainy alley, time stopped at that moment.
What warm and cold in March, the rain drifted intoxicated, the earth is wet, my heart is wet, even if the sun is bright and dry damp mood. With a cold wind, I was lost in the rainy streets.
In March, the rain pattered down, I came to this roof again and again, how much I want to find that lost figure, and then take a look at your beautiful eyebrows, and then take a look at your moving smile. How much I want to grab your gentle hands, no longer let go. But now the two hands outstretched but empty-handed return. Retrieve the wet empty hand to realize that all this has been the past, see the empty self, the heart can not help but infinite melancholy, tears overflowed the eyes.
March rain pattered non-stop, cold rain wet my heart, tears and rain has been indistinguishable from the tears rain flow in the face of ......
March rain
pattered non-stop
stream trickle
flow in my
Like a jade hand
Softly glides over the skin
March rain
Drunk with thoughts
Drenched in my heart
Dampened by the hopelessness
Tears and rain
Drifting towards your sky
Can you feel
My tears in the rain
The rain
The tears in the rain
The tears in the rain
The rain in the rain in the sky
The rain in the rain in the rain in the rain in the rain in the rain in the rain in the rain in the sky
Little Rain Lyrical Prose 4Opening the window, a cold wind blew. I suddenly remembered that every time I was at home, the rainy day would smell the fresh scent of the soil, mixed with the unique flavor of the fields. I like the feeling of wet soil and dreamy grass. I loved stepping on the wet grass, wetting my shoes and letting the mud get all over the red flowery cloth shoes my mom made. Then when the sun comes up and the thick soles are dried by the wind, I see the mud turn into pallets for the soles and come off in one piece! So much fun and so interesting! Xunyi air how fresh ah, when the leaves are green, the whole earth lax ...... I always roam the mountains crazy, close to home, Nantou ditch, became my picking wild game, searching for exotic flowers and grasses, to see the gully wonders of the best place to go. Fish and shrimp, digging wild vegetables to catch scorpions, playing walnuts pick persimmons, digging on the sky, no place we have not dug. From this beam over that ditch, a muddy, sweaty play tired run home. Sniffing and kissing the fragrance of flowers, stepping on the weeds, dipped in the creek flowing murmur, play the meaning of endless, can not help but taste back.
Always wake up laughing in his sleep, snoring in the dream! I am afraid that once I leave, this hometown mountains and waters will only be in the dream! Nowadays, you can really only rely on the only memories, catching the wind of attachment! How many times have returned home, want to go back to find childhood memories, that ditch but was sealed, the child stepped on the strange and dangerous goat path, now has been wind erosion from the land.
I woke up my son in the sleep: "Baby, get up, it's raining outside, we played a small umbrella to school ......" "Mom, you use a big umbrella, I use a small umbrella, a small umbrella is a child with the ......" "Mom, it's raining, the ground is clean ......" In a child's eyes, the world is clear. Like the fresh green of spring, the world is a beautiful prospect for the child. The beginning of this yearly cycle of seasons is the beginning of all new life!
Stepping on the wet concrete floor, I held my son's hand as we walked along the street next to the lawn that was already green. Together we felt the gentle drizzle falling on our hearts. Watching the city bustling with traffic, I stop and watch. Enjoying this short morning, the Wenlin Road Square in recovery and stretching. New grasses are emerging from the gardens and all the trees are peeking out with new buds. They are scrambling to be the first to welcome Spring '16. The city's grass and trees are iconic in telling busy people that spring is in full bloom, so look forward to enjoying it more!
The child lies in my arms, listening to the sound of the wind blowing. The rain falls all over the skin, cool and warm. We used our hands to catch the first rain of spring, he grabbed my hand and told me, "This is the most beautiful you!" I was touched for a long time, not knowing if he was drunk on the beauty of the view and returning to the comforting serenity of nature. Or we are in that moment, we all feel the same care of the earth, for the love of spring, for the joy of life, for the future of the fervent hope ...... The rain moisturized everything, although the footsteps of winter did not go far, the air mixed with cold. However, I still see the golden spring flowers open early, peach blossoms spit out the bones of the flower, revealing pink petals. The willows rendered a light green color, like the ink dye of a painter's brush, vividly swaying in the wind. I told my children that spring is here and Dad and I will take you to the countryside. Flying kites, watching spring flowers, enjoying peach blossoms, chasing ducks on the lake ...... The child happily wrapped his arms around me and kissed!
We are always moved to a certain person, a certain scene! Even a certain place to live, because where there are too many worthwhile memories and touched! Is it the intoxication of the scene or the mind's self-intoxication? We are always seeking, for the desire of a better life, the pursuit of all the joy and happiness of life. Stems from the combination of mood and scene, pure and affectionate ......
Step out, see the spring, enjoy every second of being alive! Love without a trace of rain!
The street is usually crowded with cars, and in the morning, standing in front of the window and looking down, the cars stopped very little, the street was sprinkled with a little rain, and the street looked empty. During the holidays, people like to travel to another city, in WeChat appeared a large number of foreign scenery photos, sitting at home with them to perceive the scenery of another city.
Nowadays, the communication and media dissemination capacity and large speed and fast, but also because of the large amount of information into our minds, so I became a little lazy more. Plainly, open the phone to know the world, what Cangshan snow, West Lake moon, become so close. But look at the streets outside the window, a kind of forgotten oil.
Lazy is a very easy to catch the bug, like a poison, especially in the eyes of this kind of vacation, looking for a most reasonable excuse, it is rare to take a break, so each of us are lazy so comfortable. Knowing that there are some things that must not be half-hearted, but want to think about it and say, let nature take its course. However, we don't try to clear the poison of the vacation, and the new days remain a repeat of the past days. Though sometimes we are anxious and feel uneasy, we can't be bothered to put in a little effort, the heart that once wanted to put in a little effort is consumed in this laziness. Who can come to the rescue ah, we are in the mire to break free from the can not come out, in addition to the ability to face the wall for a while, there is no way.
The true nature of nature is to do everything possible. Do not force, rather than hands spread out. Because of mediocrity, so we are used to envy those who are talented and face value, such as looking at the protagonist of the modern drama. Appreciate their style of behavior, lament their life in the matter of not shocked, deal with the ease of affairs. Often y involved in the drama, diluted our should need to think independently of the time, we need this independent thinking space, independent thinking is the soul of man.
Outside the window, the streets of the empty filled with the atmosphere of the holiday. The flowers on the windowsill, blooming a little defeated, it seems to have completed the time of the wind has passed. But we are still watering it, and it has an unopened bud at the top. We have been enjoying its second bloom and looking forward to its perfect bloom. Guess there should be no seasons in its soul, only days in its life when it should bloom.
On the table of the bamboo weaving flower blue put is the current autumn fruit, chestnuts and walnuts, bamboo weaving delicate as weaving, delicate as a work of art, smooth lines, skillful workmanship, as if it is to tell us that the beauty of the eye, is around, and within reach. The weaver must be a person with a quiet mind and a hard heart, and only those who have been weaving with all their heart for years will have such works born. This understanding may be superficial, but I clearly perceive his pursuit of beauty, in his heart there has always been a dream, weaving the world's most beautiful flowers and blue. Sometimes I will stare at these out of the hand to buy back the flower blue look for a long time, the beauty is behind the life of the followers, is the soul of a sigh, respect for the beauty, is to cherish ourselves.
Will not weave flowers and blue, but we can weave a dream of the future, that dream is the protagonist of their own role, to do what they should do, bring the sun. Of course, there is also a sea of bright moon, the other side of the bird.
Outside the window, the street is still drizzling, and the street is clean and shiny. In this mid-autumn day, like a weaving drizzle, it will be weaving what dream? Maybe next year there is a different Mid-Autumn Festival.
We look forward to it together.
The rain in March, sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet sleet.
I have always loved the song "March showers", set off the calendar of March 1, the ears will be ringing a variety of versions of the showers song: text, drawings, chorus, piano playing. All with the March and drizzle adsorbed together in the story, all relations fay spring rain romantic thoughts, in this poetic season wantonly dense and elegant interpretation.
March in the rain, March is of course a general reference, and does not necessarily have to descend on March 1, regardless of the wet apricot blossom rain, or moist as a pasty rain on the streets of Tianjie, in the first warm and cold season, sprinkled submerged nourishment of all things are the legend of the eagerly awaited spring rain. But this year's spring rain is like a dream for a long time to save up for many days, in the "has been a cliff of a hundred feet of ice," when the time, on the fodder and soldiers set up a sprint posture, when the dawn of March 1 just rose in the east, she descended on earth without a word, whispering softly, elf-like eloquence, melting into the parched earth, wetting the withered trees of the dull, wetting the The first thing I've noticed is that I'm not sure what I'm talking about, but I'm not sure what I'm talking about, and I'm not sure what I'm talking about.
In the morning at work, walking in the campus, at first did not realize that the rain, just vaguely feel the road surface some vaguely wet, could it be that you? The rain in March? How many people's expectations, how many people's hopes, last night in the dream also mountain heavy water back miserable miserable. Mobilization of the senses to seek, the spring rain and seem to play hide-and-seek with me, like a simple mischievous child, look at me suspiciously, look at me anxious, and she seems to be in the air with a full dance, anonymous smile to see me looking around to find the appearance of nothing, where are you ah, my child? Perhaps you can not bear to see me anxious, as if you know the emaciated cracked heart also look forward to the baptism of the spring rain, you gently and cleverly point my cheeks, and slyly stroked my neck, seems to be in a dreamlike, I smelled the breath of your freshness, I suddenly realized the joy, the first day of March, the dear spring rain, you are really as expected.
Falling rain in March, gentle murmuring in my ears, playing in my cheeks. The familiar melody once again resounded in my ears, the human face? Peach blossom? The mountains are green, the water is blue. The red dust years, like smoke in the past. Walking in the morning rain dream, searching for the flow of the years, touching the imprint of the past!
leaning against the window, overlooking the distant mountains of the kind of "grass color distant look near but no" poetry; gazing at the lake surface ripples, in the rain hit the banana patter, looking for lilacs in general the lost traces of love; closed his eyes and distant thoughts, so that the field of the clear spring rain, moistened you once locked up the affairs of the heart.
Depression of the winter haze, washed by the March spring rain wash. The mind of the accumulated dirt, by this silent spring rain dash fade away and go. So - those red flowers, scrambling to spit out the fragrance; those grass, scrambling to bubble out the hope of the tender green; those seeds, can not wait to rush out of the soft soil; those happy heart, in this dashing spring rain, competing to drill out of the tightly locked eyebrow, enjoy flying in the spring of the ten thousand purple and red.
Misty rain, you give everything a misty veil, will wash everything so fresh and bright. The whole world is like a just-born ruddy, as if everything is starting again, the tree is new, seems to immediately have green buds full of branches; grass is new, new and delicate bright; flowers are new, new and budding. Even the mood is new, there is only a refreshing and pleasant drift in the heart.
Walking in the endless spring rain, listening to the spring rain like a wisp of the story of the song, and then, let the spring rain warm their hearts after the winter, such as a touch of green quietly close to a page of rice paper, and then gradually rendered out another kind of interest. There is no umbrella to cover, let the spring rain in March to wet themselves. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that, but I'm going to be able to do it.